


Remembering Thy Past (And Using Thy Future)

by ScarletPotter



Series: Avengers Oneshots [8]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Feels, Panic Attack, Red Room (Marvel), Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 15:50:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletPotter/pseuds/ScarletPotter
Summary: Natalia Alionova Romanova, or Natasha Alionova Romanoff remembers her past, it’s something that will always be a part of her, especially when she finds out what’s back.





	Remembering Thy Past (And Using Thy Future)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Sorry about the long update! I was busy with exams and graduation!
> 
> There's a trigger warning for panic attacks. Other than that, it's all good.

Natalia Alionova Romanova is many things. Russian. An ex-murderess. Assassin. Killer. Scared. Confused. But she’s working on redemption. There’s a gushing red in her ledger, and she can’t get it out. But she can damn well try. Even if there’s still red dripping, at least one can say that she tried to make up for her sins. 

 

A good start was changing her name, but still honoring her backstory. Natalia Alionova Romanova was a murderer, an assassin, someone who struck fear into the hearts of people, but Natasha Alionova Romanoff, was a hero, an Avenger, someone who sent hope into the hearts of people. 

 

But, the past demands to be remembered.  _ And pain, it demands to be felt. _

 

Natasha remembers it all, some memories are more recurring, more haunting than others. The cold presence of her father, the father whose name she never knew. The same father,  _ Ivan,  _ the  _ Red Skull _ called her. “Daughter of Ivan.” The very same man who stood there unfazed, completely unbothered by her desperate pleas to be taken away. Ivan, who refused to meet her sad, waverly eyes only saying, “You are a disgrace to the Romanova name.” He then ordered to the agents dressed in black with equally robotic, emotionless faces, “Take her.” And they did. 

 

With a sedate. 

 

She remembers her assignment, the dancing. God, she  _ hated _ it. The constant urge to be perfect. Flawless. And if you failed? Your body, or whatever was left of your body was dumped into the ground buried six feet under. Why six feet? To hide the remains as to any evidence of the horrors coming from the rusted facility. She had to survive. And Madame, who  _ for some reason _ , found some potential in her, wouldn’t let her fail.  _ No matter what. _ Even when she broke their biggest rule, trying to escape, she was only given a warning. Any other person would have been shot dead. Or, a very painful experience in  _ The Room. _

 

Another was the handcuffs. Something that would continue to haunt her, all the way to her grave. As the Madame had phrased it, “To keep the future of the Motherland from escaping.” How she hated the cold, tight metal shaped to fit her wrist, and her wrist only. The cuffs were used to drill into the pupil’s minds who was in control, and that the pupils could  _ easily _ be taken care of. Natalia knew it all too well, the teachers weren’t afraid to beat their students into subjection. The Winter Soldier was proof of that. 

 

It’s the things that keep her up at night. It’s the things like these that always come around to haunt “the emotionless murderer” and make her doubt herself. 

 

_ Nonono. This cannot be. _

 

The Widow falls out of her seat onto the floor. Except, she lands in the strong and sturdy arms of Clint Barton. She’s gasping for air now. A hand is gently wiping her red wavy hair from her face, and another hand is rubbing the side of her forehead. A voice speaks calmly, “Hey, Nat, it’s alright. You’re okay. I need you to breathe for me, can you do that?” Natasha registers the voice to Clint who begins to dramatize his breathing which somehow her body begins to mimic. Her eyes began to flutter close she struggled to stay awake.

 

Thick, calloused skin runs over her own calloused skin, thick fingers folding over her thin ones. A voice who Natasha matched to the Captain spoke softly, “Nat, I need you to stay with us. Five things you see.” Natasha wildly searched the room that for  _ some strange reason _ , was spinning. Natasha stuttered, “You.” A tall dirty blonde figure was crouched down beside her, giving her a puppy-dogged smile as his arm was making contact with her arm. Natasha stuttered once again blinking quickly, “Thor.” She made a sound that sounded like a wheeze and a cough, and rushed out, “Tony. Chair. Table.” 

 

Steve smiled softly, “You’re doing great. Four things you feel.” Natasha chided, “Dizzy. Room. Spinning. Make it stop.” The hand that was rubbing her arm was gently cupping her face, stilling her trembling head. He spoke confidently, “Do not fret Lady Natasha, I shall end the dizzying.” Natasha spoke in a somewhat distance voice, “Clint’s hands. Your hands.” Someone was gently carding her hair. Tony. She added quickly, “Tony’s hands. Panic.” Steve nodded, “That’s okay. One thing you hear. Don’t forget to breathe.” 

 

Natasha sucked in a breath. There were too many sounds and she couldn’t take it. The clinking of metal. The ruffling of skirts. The voice of Dmitri speaking bluntly, “Again. And do not fail this time.” The echoing sound of the Winter Soldier smacking her. The sickly sweet voice of the Madame. Steve’s voice. She heaved out, “Too many voices.” 

 

Clint’s voice appeared again, “That’s alright. I need you to try and focus on my voice okay? You aren’t there. You’re here at the Avengers Tower. Your name is Natasha Alionova Romanoff. What’s your name?” 

 

_ A sixteen-year-old Natalia Alionova Romanova cast a shameful glance towards her shined shoes as the Madame click-clacked her heels towards her. She was in for it now. She wouldn’t be surprised if the Madame was carrying a gun and was going to kill her. Instead, she heard the Madame speak, “Natalia,  _ _ Ne mogli by vy ob"yasnit', chto vy pytalis'?” (Natalia, would you care to explain what you had attempted?) She sounded like a principal who was asking in a highly professional manner why she, the student had acted up.  _

 

_ A fifteen-year-old Natalia put on her cold facade as she gripped the gun so tightly, she was sure it was going to slip out of her sweaty hands. There was a figure with a black sack tightened over his head, preventing him from seeing his death coming at him. Natasha leaned forward, doing her best to ignore the pressuring stares of her fellow pupils, half of them were most likely going to be dead by the end of the week. She applied pressure on to the trigger, not once, but twice, sending the bullets into the man’s chests.  _

 

_ This was the first marking of the assassin. This man was the first person who fell victim to the future Black Widow. The first red in her ledger.  _

  
  


Clint stroked her chin gently, “Hey, hey, focus on me. What’s your name?” Natasha wheezed out, “Natasha Alionova Romanoff. They’re going to come again. And they’re going to kill me. Not yet. I have, I have to get the red out.” Natasha started sobbing, “But there’s too much red!” She felt Clint’s arms raise her into a sitting position pressing her side against his chest as he gently rocked her. His arms were wrapped around her, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, they won’t get you. We promise.” Steve pressed a kiss to Natasha’s trembling hands, “The Red Room is not going to take you, the Red Room won’t even as much cast a look at you. We’re sure of it.” 

 

Natasha whimpered, “You, you don’t know that.” Tony kneeled down next to Steve, grasping her hands. “Yes, we are. You know why?” Natasha shook her head, loose strands of hair flying wildly making her seem even more frightened. Tony smiled, a truly genuine smile, “Because they would have to get through all of us, and over our dead bodies. And that’s never going to happen. We promise.” 

 

Natasha leaned into Clint’s chest, “Promise?” The Avengers pulled into a group hug, keeping their panicked friend in the middle, “We promise.” 

 

Natasha sighed as she let her eyes fluttered closed as she relaxed from her panic attack, she couldn’t dwell on the past, but she could use the present, and her family to help her get through it. 


End file.
